


Green isn't your color

by Drago



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Ian can't handle it, Jealous!Ian, M/M, Manipulative Ian, Mentions of Sex, Mickey has a friend, Mickey is confused and annoyed, Nudes, Or at least he is trying, Possessive Ian, basically Ian doing what he usually does, slight slutshaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drago/pseuds/Drago
Summary: Anon said,could you write a fic in which one day Ian saw Mickey talking to a hot Latino guy and thought the Mexican cartel wants to kill Mickey, but it turned out to be a guy Mickey dated in Mexico, leading to jealous Ian trying to use sex and play victim to get the guy out of the way.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 144
Collections: my favorite gallavich fanfictions





	Green isn't your color

**Author's Note:**

> No, I'm not taking prompts!

They are in Mickey’s old stomping grounds from when he was still working for Terry when it happens. Mickey was supposed to buy some guns for their new business. Ian didn’t want to come with him because, while he understands that they need them, he still doesn’t want to be too involved in their acquirement. So in the end he didn’t go with Mickey to the seller, but he promised to pick him up so they could grab dinner. After much quarreling they agreed that Friday evenings would be their date nights, and candlelit dinners are the only romantic thing they both enjoy. Well, Mickey doesn’t like the candles, but he tolerates them well enough.  
This time, Ian even made a reservation at a newly opened burger place, because Lip told him it gets quite busy in the evenings. But he left the house slightly too late, so he is rushing to meet his husband, who is probably waiting for him annoyed and… Talking to some tall guy. They are standing on the sidewalk, so the guy definitely isn’t a gun dealer – even Mickey wouldn’t be arrogant enough to do it in the open like that. As Ian comes closer he realizes that the other man is Mexican, and his smoldering dark eyes stare at Mickey like he wants to eat him alive. Fuck. Between constant fighting and struggling with work Ian forgot about the Mexican cartel his husband fucked over to be with him, but that doesn’t mean the cartel forgot about Mickey.  
Should he call the police? But Mickey is definitely carrying at least two illegal firearms. Carl? He probably shouldn’t be getting his family involved. But he also shouldn’t have let Mickey go alone.  
He doesn’t really have a choice. He starts walking again, already clenching his fists in case he needs to throw a punch to protect his husband. They can overpower the stranger, even if he is a bit taller than Ian.  
The Mexican suddenly grabs Mickey’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly, and Ian picks up the pace, almost running towards them. When he is close enough to see Mickey’s expression, he is surprised to see a coy smile on his face. He isn’t even trying to get away from the other man, accepting his touch. It’s almost like…  
“Ian?” Mickey asks, turning towards him, and the stranger’s hand falls off his shoulder.  
“Hey, sorry I’m late, I took a nap. Who is this?”  
Mickey seems to hesitate, but he quickly recovers, “Gael.”  
He doesn’t provide any more information. Mickey isn’t the most talkative guy, but he knows Ian is too nosy to be satisfied with short, single-worded answers. Yet he chooses not to say anything more.  
“I’m Ian, Mickey’s husband,” he says with a big, fake smile. Gael cocks an eyebrow at that and doesn’t offer a hand to shake. He doesn’t offer anything, at least not to Ian.  
Instead, he looks at Mickey again, “Talk to you later, lindo.” Then he saunters away like he owns the whole goddamn world, and it makes Ian realize that he might have, at some point, owned Ian’s whole world.  
They make it to the restaurant and manage to order before Ian’s had enough. It’s obvious that Mickey isn’t going to talk – in fact, it seems like he doesn’t even realize there’s something to discuss, talking about the guns he secured for them instead. But Ian couldn’t care less about their job right now.  
“How do you know Gael?”  
“Huh? He is a friend.”  
“We don’t have friends,” and it’s true, they have their families (or, in Mickey’s case, one singular family member, Sandy) and each other. That’s it.  
“Well, I do,” Mickey takes a sip of water, avoiding Ian’s eyes. For a criminal Mickey is really bad at lying to Ian.  
“Where did you meet him?”  
“In Mexico, he worked for the same people.”  
There’s more, Ian knows there’s more, but he wishes his husband would talk about it himself.  
“And why is he in Chicago now?”  
“Oh, well, he had to leave when I did, and he’s been traveling around. He shouldn’t be staying long, Chicago is too cold for him.”  
“Will you be seeing him again?” Ian asks, deceptively calm.  
“Yeah, man, I owe him.”  
The waiter brings their order, but Ian ignores him, “Have you fucked him?” from the corner of the eye he can see the waiter startle and blush, hands shaking slightly as he sets down the dishes. Fucking pussy.  
“Ian,” Mickey growls at him, eyes darting to look at the waiter.  
“I asked if you fucked him,” he repeats, voice slightly louder. He knows that Mickey will give in if he thinks Ian will make a scene. Which he might, depending on how the conversation goes.  
“Yes, now shut up!”  
“How many times?”  
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Mickey looks confused which Ian usually finds cute, but this time it annoys him. He could cope with his husband fucking some Mexican hunk once or twice, but if it was more than that then they had to be something more. Fuckbuddies. Friends with benefits. Or, perhaps, lovers. He hates all of these labels.  
“So you were boyfriends,” he says just to taunt his husband, who is already shaking his head. “Then what? You don’t fuck someone for months without making it into something.”  
“We were friends who sometimes fucked.”  
Knowing Mickey’s sex drive, ‘sometimes’ probably meant at least once a day.  
“And he wants you back now.”  
“Fuck, no, he just wants to catch up. Been a while since we talked in person.”  
“You really like him. You do, I can tell.”  
“Maybe he’s got a bit of my heart. Like, you know, all of your past lovers. Maybe only 98% of my heart belongs to you.”  
“He only gets 2%?” Ian laughs, although it does hurt that Mickey brought it up.  
“It’s not like your lovers got more than that, right? I mean, if I get 87%, then all of them get 13%, not a whole fucking lot for a lot of people.”  
“You calling me a slut?”  
“You’ve been around,” Mickey gives him a nasty grin.  
“Fuck you, like you haven’t been fucked by more dicks you can count. It doesn’t fucking matter, you won’t be seeing Gael again.”  
Mickey glares at him then, setting his beer down with too much force, “I already told you...”  
“No, you are not hanging out with the guy you fucked. Over my dead body.”  
“Stop being a bitch, even if he wasn’t my friend I still owe him.”  
“Owe him what?”  
“How do you think I got enough dirt on the cartel to secure a deal with the Feds? You really think they took in some pasty Gringo and spilled all their secrets? Not fucking likely. Gael took liking to me and agreed to help me.”  
“Just like that?”  
“He also wanted out,” Mickey shrugs like it’s not a big deal, “I agreed to wait over a month for him to leave before I went to the Feds, and that’s it.”  
“They just let him leave?”  
Mickey lowers his voice, “It happens when the boss is your father.”  
“He ratted his own father out?” Ian hisses and Mickey looks at him funny.  
“He wasn’t a very good father. He did some shit to Gael you wouldn’t understand.”  
“Still...”  
“Fucking hell, Gallagher, I’d pay someone to take Terry away, and you’d sell Frank for a packet of crisps,” Mickey takes a huge bite of his burger and chews obnoxiously, glaring at Ian. “So I will be seeing Gael again. I owe him and you know what? You owe him too.”  
“I never asked you to...”  
“You never fucking do.”

It’s not a very good date.

Ian tries to invite Gael over for dinner, but Mickey just laughs at him. Then he tries to invite himself to their dinner, but it doesn’t go well either.  
He doesn’t usually suspect Mickey might be tempted to cheat on him, but Gael? Gael is gorgeous and they already have a history of sleeping together. Hell, even Ian would be tempted if he didn’t know that the Mexican touched his husband. The thought makes him sick. He knows Mickey fucked more people than they both care to remember, but except for Angie – they never had a face before, and Ian isn’t one to think about things like that. Because Mickey is right, he basically fucked his way through Boystown.  
Yet now he is sitting in their room, waiting for his husband to come back, worried he might find traces of his unfaithfulness on his skin. When Mickey does come back, smelling of cheap whiskey and cigarettes, Ian rubs his face all over his neck, checking for another man’s scent. He kisses Mickey looking for any foreign notes. And, finally, presses his fingers inside his husband to…  
He gets a slap for that. Not a very strong one, just to show him he went overboard and Mickey is mad at him. Usually, anger leads to sex, but Mickey pulls away, grumbling something under his breath and goes to take a shower. He hasn’t been fucked, but maybe Gael is a bottom. He doesn’t look like one, but that’s what most people would say about Mickey.  
“Did you...”  
“Don’t even think about asking me about that. I’m going to break your fucking face.”  
Mickey ends up pressed against the wall in the attempt to avoid touching Ian, but they still wake up with their limbs tangled together. Ian smiles, pressing small kisses to Mickey’s face, waiting for the other man to wake up so they can start the day right.  
“Good morning,” he whispers, knowing that his low morning voice usually gets Mickey going. It does seem to work for a second, Mickey’s eyes flutter open and he gasps softly, letting Ian caress his face, slowly moving lower. But then his husband sits up sharply, forcing Ian’s hands off his body.  
“I was thinking we could go out tonight,” he says, pretending it didn’t bother him.  
“Can’t, I promised Gael I’ll help him with something.”  
“With what?”  
“Don’t worry about it, nothing illegal.”  
But he does worry, he’s known Mickey for ages and the only people the older man ever hung out with were his family and Kev. It was either crime or booze motivated. As far as he knows, Mickey didn’t even hang out with the people he fucked, so he finds it extremely suspicious that he is willing to do it with Gael.  
Ian has a plan though, and he is pretty confident it’s going to keep Mickey home. It’s a simple plan, but it involves sex, and Mickey is a simple creature. Although he often gets grumpy, he usually can’t resist Ian on his knees, not necessarily sucking his cock.  
He splurges on steaks, just to increase his chances, and even manages to persuade Tammy to prepare a proper rub, so he doesn’t ruin a perfectly good piece of meat with his poor cooking skills. He manages to do it behind Mickey’s back, while his husband plays with Franny and then disappears somewhere for couple hours. Ian isn’t too worried about that since so far Mickey told him about every meeting with Gael, and apparently the Mexican has something to do in Chicago other than try to steal Ian’s man.  
So Ian cooks Mickey a steak with thick-cut fries, no veg in sight, and then takes him upstairs. Face down and ass up, just the way they both like it. He goes to town on Mickey’s hole, licking and sucking on the rim like it’s his favorite candy. And it might be, he learned to love doing it over the years as he matured and became slightly less selfish. Mickey gives himself to Ian wholeheartedly, without ever questioning it, allows Ian to be as rough (or as soft) as he wants to be. So he deserves a good rimming with Ian working him open with his tongue, making his thick thighs tremble.  
Ian smiles against the rim when Mickey starts to make high-pitched whining noises, waiting for his husband to beg him for more, call him his ‘daddy’. He is nearly there, so Ian thrusts two fingers inside – usually he would go for three, but they didn’t fuck in the morning – and twists them to hit Mickey’s prostate, wringing a scream out of him. Ian moves to drape himself over Mickey’s back, caging him in, and adds another finger to tease him some more. Mickey squirms under him, moving his hips to force Ian deeper.  
Ian chuckles and presses his lips against Mickey’s ears to whisper, “That’s it, baby, I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You like daddy’s long fingers in your slutty hole don’t you? Gael could never fuck you like that.”  
It’s the wrong thing to say. The second he says it, Mickey freezes. Ian counts to three before his husband pushes him away, forcing his fingers out a bit too roughly. And for a second Ian thinks that Mickey is going to hit him, that’s how mad his husband looks, cheeks bright red and jaw clenched.  
Instead, Mickey puts on the first shirt he finds (his own), followed by Ian’s underwear.  
“Get out.”  
“What?”  
“Get the fuck out. Sleep on a couch. I don’t want to see your ugly mug tonight.”  
“Mick...”  
“Out!”

His whole body hurts when he wakes up to Franny whining about wanting pop tarts for breakfast. He is too big for the lumpy couch, but he knew better than to argue with Mickey the night before. Judging from the way his husband _ostentatiously doesn't_ look at him when he comes down, he is still angry. Ian gives him his best puppy eyes, but Mickey quickly devours two slices of toast and leaves the house, muttering that he needs to discuss something with Kev regarding _his_ business. They need to make a delivery later, but Ian doesn’t have anything on his to-do list until then, so he lounges around in his sleeping clothes in their bedroom. He tries to take a nap after everyone leaves and the house is blissfully silent, but annoying buzzing wakes him up after less than fifteen minutes. He tries to ignore it, but it won’t stop, so he blindly reaches out to find the source of his annoyance without sitting up. He finally locates it under Mickey’s pillow. Ian isn’t surprised to see it’s Mickey’s phone, because he does tend to put it under his pillow when he wants to sleep for few more minutes, but he is surprised that his husband forgot it in the first place. Mickey isn’t really one for technology, he knows better than to leave his phone at home, if only because Ian likes to message him when they are apart and expects to be answered immediately. But they apparently aren’t talking, and Mickey left his phone behind. It’s probably accidental, but it also makes Ian worry that he went too far this time.  
Ian checks who’s been calling his husband so persistently – it doesn’t happen often – and immediately regrets it, when he sees Gael’s name on the screen. At least Mickey didn’t give him a nickname, but Ian is still upset that the Mexican wants to reach his husband, again. Gael will be leaving Chicago soon, so it’s understandable that he wants to spend time with his… friend, but Ian doesn’t have to like it. His finger hovers over the power button, but he changes his mind, quickly unlocking the phone. He doesn’t do this, doesn’t snoop through his husband’s phone. There’s no reason for it. Or there wasn’t before Gael decided to barge into their lives and turn Ian into an insecure monster. He goes straight to the messages, not even pretending to be interested in anything else. He knows that Mickey’s camera roll is full of pictures taken by Ian and few selfies he insisted on taking with his husband.  
He scrolls to the very first message Mickey exchanged with Gael. It’s not a very long conversation, they were definitely using different phones when they were in Mexico, but Ian realizes that Mickey has been talking to Gael even before the Mexican came to Chicago. Of course Mickey doesn’t have to tell Ian everything, but why wouldn’t he mention his only friend?  
The messages aren’t very exciting at first, just a lot of friendly banter that reminds Ian of their own conversations, but that quickly changes with Gael’s arrival in Chicago. It’s like a switch has been flipped and Gael’s messages suddenly turned a lot more flirty. Mickey’s remained the same, but he never outright told Gael to stop, simply ignoring the underlying flirtiness as long as he could. Just when Ian thinks he really doesn’t have anything to worry about, he sees it. The evidence of Gael’s desire for his husband.

_[From: Gael]_  
I miss your ass. Lemme remind you of good times we had in M.

_[From: Me]_  
Remember Ian? My husband?

_[From: Gael]_  
He can watch. I’ll show him how a real man fucks.

_[From: Me]_  
Fuck off, dumbass.

While happy that Mickey doesn’t seem interested in Gael, Ian still feels offended that his husband didn’t say that he is a better fuck. He _has to be_ , right? Mickey never complained or compared him to anyone else, so Ian always assumed he was Mickey's best fuck. It's only fair, Mickey definitely is the best lover Ian ever had.  
Gael didn’t quite give up after that, instead of trying to convince Mickey verbally, he sent five pictures, all of them depicting Ian’s husband in various sexual situations. Mickey’s face isn’t visible in them, but Ian would recognize his lips anywhere. Even if they were wrapped around a thick cock he doesn’t know. One particular picture that makes his blood boil is of Gael’s almost whole hand buried in Mickey’s ass, stretching him wide. They never tried fisting, it wasn’t something that Ian found interesting, but he was always a little bit surprised that his husband never mentioned it, as kinky as he is. But that picture explains it all – he already tried it and, most probably, didn’t enjoy it as much as he anticipated. Were the kinks they do enjoy also tested with Gael, before Mickey tried them with Ian? Now that he thinks about it, Mickey came back from Mexico much more confident and willing to demand things in bed. In the past, he only ever asked Ian to use the Ben Wa balls (which Ian refused back then) and to slap him a little bit…  
It shouldn’t matter. Ian had many partners, he doesn’t remember half of them. He didn’t try many new things, but he definitely got a lot of practice before Mickey came back. And yet he can’t get over the fact that Mickey found someone he trusted enough to experiment with. In Mexico, right after Ian left him.

_[From: Me]_  
Stop sending me this shit. Delete it, bitch!

_[From: Gael]_  
In your dreams, baby boy. I’ll jack off to them  
until I’m too old to get it up.

_[From: Me]_  
🖕🖕🖕

_[From: Gael]_  
Hubby’s gonna have kittens when he sees it.

_[From: Me]_  
🖕 Ian doesn’t check my phone 🖕

Shame overtakes Ian because he is proving Gael right, he won’t ever know that, but it still makes Ian feel like predictable shit.  
After that, Gael doesn’t send any more naked pictures, but he does send a selfie he took on a beach, Mickey smiling slightly, while Gael grins like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Mickey is blond in the picture, hair flopped to the side and freckles covering his face. Mexican sun must be brutal. It takes Ian’s breath away for all the wrong reasons. As hot as his husband looks, it’s not _his_ Mickey, it’s someone he never got to see, and it hurts. Ian has no right to feel betrayed, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling just that. He was supposed to be in Gael’s place, standing next to this blond, freckled version of his husband.

“Yo, get up, we’ve got work to do,” Mickey’s voice comes from somewhere above Ian, urging him to get up, but he covers his head with a comforter, hiding from the sound. He fell asleep after going through the whole conversation, Mickey’s phone still in his hand. Now it’s halfway across the bed, but his husband doesn’t comment on it. “Get your ass up, Gallagher.”  
“No,” he says stubbornly.  
Mickey responds with silence, and Ian expects him to just yank off the comforter. He doesn’t expect a warm hand on his head, petting him through the fabric.  
“Are you feeling okay?”  
And for a second Ian considers faking it, considers acting like his medication is failing. He dismisses that thought immediately, it would be too cruel and Mickey doesn’t deserve to be punished. Instead, he says, “You looked good in blond.”  
The hand pulls away as he knew it would.  
“Really, Ian? You went through my fucking phone? I never did that to you,” even when he had every right to do it, but that goes unsaid.  
“He has your nudes. Even I don’t, and I’m your husband.”  
“You never fucking asked.”  
“I didn’t think you’d let me take them.”  
“Really? I let you choke me regularly.”  
“I didn’t think you’d trust me with them. But apparently you trusted someone you fucked for few months, so clearly I was wrong.”  
“I already told he he did a lot for me, how could I not trust him?”  
Ian knows it’s true, Gael gave up a lot to help Mickey. There was something in it for him too, but he didn’t have to go this far, he could have left without ratting out his father. It’s not surprising that Mickey trusts Gael, but Ian is angry that he can’t compete with the Mexican in that aspect.  
“Anyway,” Mickey continues, “he sent them because he knew they’d rile you up if you saw them. I didn’t think you’d be a little bitch, but...”  
“Why didn’t you delete them?”  
“Because if you did end up acting like a fucking distrustful asshole you’d find it suspicious that there’s a long gap between texts, and then I’d have to prove you that I wasn’t sexting or trying to hook up with him, or something dumb like that.”  
Ian finally sits up to look at his husband, who seems equal parts angry and disappointed. He even refuses to look at Ian, playing with his phone instead.  
“Would you fuck him again?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“Would you?”  
“Only if we weren’t married. So no, I won’t ever fuck him again. And he doesn’t really want it anyway, he just thinks that making you mad is funny.”  
And if that isn’t one of the most romantic things Mickey said to him… Or at least it’s romantic to Ian, especially since his husband isn’t doing it on purpose to get in his good books. If anything, it’s Ian who should be grovelling for doubting his husband again.  
He shuffles closer to Mickey and hugs him from behind, pressing his lips against Mickey’s stubbly cheek. “I’m sorry.”  
“You’re a dick.”  
“I’m sorry I’m a dick,” he readily agrees, squeezing Mickey’s chest. “I love you too much to lose you to someone else.”  
“Gael is a friend.”  
“You never had friends before, just your family. And you fucked him… I wouldn’t be able to be friends with someone I fucked.”  
He feels Mickey shrug and understands it for what it is. They are similar in some ways, but they’re very different in other ways.  
“I’ll do better,” he promises, trying to nuzzle against Mickey’s face to make him laugh. He doesn’t quite succeed, but his husband’s grunt of acknowledgment sounds less hostile than before. Ian isn’t lying, he is going to try and keep his mouth shut until Gael leaves Chicago. But it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be jealous or that he won’t try to convince Mickey to bleach his hair. He wants to claim every version of Mickey that ever existed.


End file.
